2007Al-Haq is an independent Palestinian non-governmental human rights organisation based in Ramallah, West Bank. Established in 1979 to protect and promote human rights and the rule of law in the Occupied Palestinian Territory (OPT), the organisation has special consultative status with the United Nations Economic and Social Council.http://alhaq.org
Sat, 25 May 2019 13:57:44 +0000Joomla! 1.5 - Open Source Content Managementen-gbAffidavit No: 3700/2007http://alhaq.org/documentation/fieldworkers-affidavits/item/291-affidavit-no-3700/2007
http://alhaq.org/documentation/fieldworkers-affidavits/item/291-affidavit-no-3700/2007

I was nine years old at the time of the Six-Day War which broke out between the Arab armies and Israel on 5 June 1967. I lived in Beit Sira village which is located six kilometres from Beit Nouba village, directly overlooking Yalo and Beit Nouba villages.

After the war started, I witnessed the displacement of thousands of villagers in the area who fled as the Israeli tanks approached their villages. I was with my family, comprising of six children in addition to my father. The eldest of my brothers, ‘Abbas, was 12 years old at the time.

On the morning of 6 June 1967, we left the cave where we were hiding and as we approached the girl's school in Beit Sira, I heard the sounds of intensive shooting all around. I also saw some birds falling to the ground. My father continued leading us along the path through the valleys and the olive fields until we arrived to the area between Saffa and Kufr Ni'ma. There, I saw an Israeli tank firing a missile which fell in an area called as "Njara." We continued along the path, without food or drink, until we arrived in Kufr Ni'ma village. There was a man there by the name of ‘Izzat al-Dik, who owned a lorry and was carrying passengers out of the area to allow them to flee to Jordan. My family and I were among these passengers. However, the lorry soon broke down and we all got off.

We stayed in Kufr Ni'ma for two consecutive nights before returning to Beit Sira upon hearing an Israeli military jeep driving through the area and telling residents, via loud speakers, to return to their villages. It was 10 June 1967 when we returned to Beit Sira. I remember seeing Israeli soldiers, accompanied by tanks and military jeeps, imposing curfew on the villages every night at 6:00 pm. From my village I could see and hear the Israeli army destroying the buildings which belonged to Beit Nouba and Yalo villages. I saw thick dust rising from the demolished buildings, and I could hear the sound of the explosives they used for the demolitions.

I also remember that two days after we had returned to Beit Sira, my family and the other families in my village had run out of food. My father then asked myself and my brother to go to one of the Jordanian army bases, known as Nakhlet Halif. When we entered the base we found it deserted. We have only found half a loaf of dry bread and took it with us back to the village. The following day our father asked us to go the Latroun villages and look for agricultural produce or food of any kind, since we were only young children and the Israeli soldiers would not use force against us; whereas there were many stories circulating that the soldiers were killing the Palestinian men who tried to return to the Latroun villages. When we arrived in Beit Nouba we found many of the houses completely destroyed. While walking in the village I saw part of a dead man's body sticking out from under the rubble of a demolished house. I also saw two Israeli bulldozers demolishing the houses of Yalo village.

We found food to bring back to Beit Sira village, using a donkey to carry everything. We repeated this process approximately ten times, each time returning to our village with food and some furniture that had been left behind by those residents who had been expelled from their villages. I also recall seeing the dead body of an elderly man in traditional Palestinian clothing on the main road connecting ‘Imwas village with Beit Nouba. He was lying on his back in an unharvested wheat field.

Also, on one of the occasions when I was walking with my father we saw the body of a soldier, an Egyptian soldier according to my father. The smell of the body was awful. The soldier was in military uniform but had no weapons on him. My father buried him in the area we found him. I also recall my brother ‘Isa finding a burnt skull on our way to Beit Nouba. We were later told that the skull belonged to an Egyptian soldier, the first of three skulls we found in that area which belonged to Egyptian soldiers.

At approximately 7:00 pm on Tuesday, 2 January 2007, after the village mosque announced that the occupying forces would allow the Palestinians living in Beit Hanina al-Balad, which is located behind the Separation Wall, to enter Jerusalem during the days of Eid Al-Adha, I decided to accompany my cousin Muhammad Khalil Jabarin to Jerusalem.Although I live in Beit Hanina al-Balad, my place of residence according to my identity card is Sa'ir, one of the villages in Hebron Governorate. My cousin and I took an illegal road to Route 60, where there was a temporary iron fence separating Beit Hanina al-Balad from Jerusalem. We reached the edge of Route 60 at about 7:30 pm. The moment we arrived, a patrol of Israeli soldiers, who I believe to be border police because of the dark green uniforms they were wearing, passed by. The soldiers ordered us to stop, approached us and took our identity cards. They knew that we were from the West Bank and accused us of sneaking into Jerusalem. Muhammad told them that we live there and that we were returning to our homes.

The soldiers took our mobile phones, closed them and thoroughly searched us after ordering us to take off our coats. Then, they put us in the back of a military jeep with three soldiers, one of whom was black, tall and slim and did not speak Arabic. I believe that he was the officer in charge because there were many badges on his uniform. He had a beauty mark on his brow. I do not remember the features of the soldier driving the jeep, nor of the soldier sitting with us in the back seat of the jeep. The latter soldier ordered us to bow our heads towards the floor of the jeep and blindfolded us. He hit us from time-to-time and cursed at us. After around 30 minutes, the jeep stopped and the soldiers removed our blindfolds. We had stopped near the gate of a military centre. I later learned that we were at 'Atarot military centre, which is situated near Beit Hanina al-Jadida, and is around 300 metres south of the Bir Nabala intersection. We entered the building’s yard, whereupon I saw a number of Israeli soldiers and border police.

There, the soldiers told us to get out of the jeep and to face the wall standing on one foot with our hands in the air. After approximately half an hour, a black soldier, who had been sitting at a desk, came towards us and ordered us to sign forms that he had filled out in Arabic. Muhammad asked about the forms, to which the soldier replied, "It is your declaration that the soldiers did not hit you and did not take anything from you." Muhammad tried to read the document, but the soldier who had been sitting with us in the back seat of the jeep approached him and ordered him to sign. After we signed the papers, the soldiers once again ordered us to stand on one foot by the wall with our hands lifted up in the air, and a distance of six metres between us.

The weather was cold and we did not have jackets. I was afraid because nine soldiers were surrounding us. I felt tired and exhausted; especially because one of the soldiers hit me every time he passed by. After some time, I felt that I could no longer remain standing on one foot with my hands up in the air as ordered. Thus, I put my raised foot down on the ground and dropped my hands. Suddenly, I felt a soldier grab me from behind and push me fiercely against the wall. My face crashed into the wall and my testicles collided with a metal pipe. At that moment, it felt as if sparks were coming out of my eyes. I felt severe pain in my eyes and head, and felt that I was going to vomit. In order to ease the pain, I began doing exercises; alternately standing and sitting. No sooner had I begun doing so, than three soldiers came towards me and ordered me to stand on one foot with my face against the wall. Having obeyed their order, I suddenly received a strong blow to my left side. My pain increased, especially in my chest, and I could no longer stand on one foot. I felt myself fainting and collapsed on the ground.

I felt a fluid coming from my mouth. I also felt the soldiers kicking my abdomen, head and back. I saw the black soldier who had filled out the forms and ordered us to sign them standing near my head. He was shouting at the soldiers, ordering them to stop beating me and to move away from me. He was threatening them with his weapon and talking on his wireless device. At the same time, a soldier with a respirator came and put an oxygen mask over my mouth.

I saw the black soldier leave the area. As soon as he had left, the other soldiers started to punch and kick me all over my body. I felt severe pain when one of the soldiers stomped on my abdomen. The soldier who was putting the oxygen mask over my mouth shouted at them and ordered them to move away from me. I also heard him speaking on his wireless device, and I understood that he was calling for an ambulance.

The black soldier returned and stood near my head in order to prevent the other soldiers from hitting me. The other soldier continued providing me with oxygen. I also saw Muhammad coming closer and talking to me. He covered me with his jacket because I was shivering from cold, but the soldiers ordered him to move away from me.

Soon after, an ambulance arrived. Immediately, the female relief workers, the soldier who was supplying me with oxygen and Muhammad put me on a stretcher and transferred me to the ambulance. In the ambulance, Muhammad asked me about my condition and translated what I said into Hebrew for the female doctor who was in the ambulance with us. Then, an Israeli soldier who spoke Arabic very well came and said, "Nothing is wrong with you and you are only fooling us," adding, "I will take you in the jeep to the checkpoint and will leave you there. We don't want any questions or answers." I replied that I was very tired and wanted to go to the hospital. He answered, "You are free, but you will pay all the treatment expenses, including the ambulance costs." I said that was not important. In response, he pushed the bed on which I was lying in the ambulance, causing it to turn upside down. Finally, at about 10:20 pm the ambulance began to move. I had been in the above situation with the soldiers for about two hours and twenty minutes. I reached Hadasa al-'Eisawiyya Hospital where I was given the required aid. The female emergency doctor refused the request of the soldiers who were accompanying me to release me from the hospital and hand me over to them.

At approximately 3:00 am on Wednesday, 3 January 2007, I left the hospital. They demanded that I pay a bill amounting to 552 shekels, but my cousin Hani Suleiman Jabarin refused to pay because the soldiers were the ones to blame. He said that the soldiers should pay the cost of the treatment. When the hospital officials searched for the soldiers, however, they did not find them. I obtained a report from the hospital showing that I have a fracture on my left ribs.

My home is located one and a half kilometres from the Jbara Israeli military checkpoint, south of the city of Toulkarem. I am married and have five children. My suffering started when Israel began the construction of the Annexation Wall in 2003. Before the construction of the Wall, my house was inside the al-Ras village boundary. Now, the Wall has separated my house from al-Ras village. My house is on the western side of the wall, while al-Ras village is on the eastern side.

My house is only 100 metres from the Wall, which is the reason for our suffering. Our movement has become restricted, and we are required to obtain special permits. The only way to exit my home is through the Jbara checkpoint where my family and I are subjected to humiliating inspection procedures by the occupying soldiers.

The Wall has also isolated me from my eldest son, Khaled Bdeirat, who got married in 2003, a few days before the Wall was constructed. After it was built, Khaled was given the necessary permits to get to my house. These permits were restricted to specific days. Sometimes, the permits were for a week. Other times, they were only for three days. Approximately one year ago, Khaled was denied these permits on the basis of security concerns, the details of which are unknown to us.

Khaled is neither an activist nor a member of any Palestinian political movement. After being prevented from entering my house because of the Wall, Khaled was forced to rent a house in the city of Toulkarem for his wife and himself. Khaled, his wife and their two children have not visited my house for a year as the Israeli soldiers have refused to give them permits to do so.

In January 2007, my daughter Fatima (20-years-old) got married to a resident of Toulkarem camp. Accordingly, we applied for permits for 40 members of the groom’s family, mostly women and children, to come to my house (i.e. the bride's house) to attend the wedding ceremony.

The Israelis refused to give anyone, except for the groom, a permit. In order to overcome this problem, I rented a hall in the city of Toulkarem in order to celebrate the wedding with everyone present. Nothing can express the harshness of such a situation. My family and I live a very complicated life, as if we were living on separate planets. The construction of the Wall deprives me of my friends and relatives who reside in al-Ras village.

Anyone who wants to visit my house needs to obtain Israeli approval. As you can imagine, my son 'Ali (10-years-old) and my daughter Hanin (13-years-old) suffer from extremely miserable and psychologically difficult living conditions because we have no neighbours with whom they can play. The Wall has confiscated my children’s right to play with their friends.

The closest town to me is now Khirbet Jbara, which is located three kilometres west of the Wall. I have no neighbours except for the family of ‘Azmi al-Dmeiri, whose house is 500 metres away from mine. This family lives under similar conditions to ours. Al-Ras village is located 250-300 metres east of my house, but now the Annexation Wall separates us from the village.

Every one of us must have a special permit in order to enter or exit the house. Even the children must possess these permits. The process of entering and exiting takes place at Jbara checkpoint, through gate number 22. After the inspection process at the checkpoint is over, I usually walk on the military road that runs parallel to the Wall. Military jeeps use this road in order to protect the Wall.

On one occasion the water and sewage system in my house was ruined, and the water started leaking inside the house. The walls absorbed this water and, as you can imagine, the situation became extremely miserable. As a result, I asked for permission to bring someone to fix the problem. I had to wait three days for the permit to be issued. You can imagine the situation my family members and I faced for those days.

My work consists of selling second-hand clothes in Toulkarem market. Accordingly, I cross Jbara checkpoint almost every day, which means I suffer daily. The inspection process for my car and myself takes hours. I face large problems transporting many materials, especially gas and fodder for the sheep. My suffering is not limited to this. One year ago, two military jeeps came to my house. Six Israeli military officials got out of the jeeps and introduced themselves as members of the Israeli Ministry of Internal Security, the Israeli Defence Ministry and the Civil Administration. Initially, they offered to provide me with a house similar to mine at al-Ras village or one of the villages at Kufr Jamal or Kufr Sour, in return for evacuating my house. Then, they asked me to suggest an amount of money I would accept in return for selling my house and my land.

I absolutely refused the offer. My house consists of two floors and its surface area is 175 square metres. The captains inspected the house and took measurements. I also own two and a half acres of land in the vicinity of my house. The captains returned six months later and threatened that if I did not accept their offer they would demolish my house and that I would lose both the house and the offer of money. I declined their offer again and said that if they demolished the house then I would reside in a tent and that I would never give up my house and land.

Throughout the construction of the Wall, the Israeli army cut off the water and electricity to our house for four consecutive months. I used to collect rainwater and light candles during this time. After bringing a case through the agricultural relief committee, who hired the lawyer Fathi Shbeita, the Israelis were forced to reconnect the water and electricity to my house. Truly, we live under very bad and miserable conditions. All we can see from our house are the military jeeps that are continually passing up and down in order to protect the Wall.

All I want to say is that even if I am killed, we will never leave our house. We have spent our whole lives working in order to build this house. I will not give up my land and its harvest, and I will not sell one bit of this land no matter how high the price. Although I receive no aid from official Palestinian bodies to help me withstand this situation, I wish to send a message through Al-Haq to all the human rights organisations and other concerned parties, urging them to move quickly to pressure the Israelis to alleviate the restrictions that have been placed on us so that we may live in dignity and under better conditions.

On the morning of 22 January 2007, I was at home with my three children, Mahdi, Ma'moun and Mus'ab, who are between two-and-a-half and five years of age. My apartment is on the third floor of a four-storey building located in the Sour Baher area to the south-east of Jerusalem city. At approximately 8:15 am, I heard screaming coming from outside. When I looked out the window, I saw my mother screaming. She was shouting that the Israeli police intended to demolish our house. My mother resides in a house close to our building. She was alone, as my father was not home at the time.

My three children and I left the house and went towards the yard. There, we saw more than 100 Israeli soldiers and police. They were carrying guns and batons, and were wearing safety helmets and different types of uniforms. Some of them were wearing green border police uniforms, while others were wearing the blue Israeli police uniform. The special squad units were wearing grey uniforms. I saw four police dogs with the soldiers.

The soldiers pushed us forward, along with the other women who reside in our building and in the neighbouring house. There were six women in total. Some of them were holding their children. The soldiers forced us into a neighbouring house, which belongs to my uncle. They locked the main door to the house and prevented anyone from leaving.

As the soldiers were pushing us inside my uncle's house, one of them, who was wearing a grey uniform, beat my left hand with his baton. We were terrified, having been pushed, beaten and detained. Through the window I saw 18 soldiers standing in front of the entrance of the house in which we were detained. These soldiers prevented us from leaving.

Through the window I also saw two massive yellow bulldozers. One was a Volvo and the other a Caterpillar. The bulldozers’ brand names were written in English, which I can read. I saw these bulldozers demolishing our apartment building, with all our furniture and belongings, including the children’s school books and toys, still inside. The other women and I asked the soldiers to allow us to go to our houses in order to take the furniture and other belongings out, but they prohibited us from doing so.

The incident has had a detrimental psychological impact on all the residents of the building, especially the children who ask about their books and toys. I had resided in the demolished house, which belonged to my father, Mahmoud al-A’mas, for a year and two months after my husband Hazem, who is 39-years-old, became unable to afford to rent a house.

On the morning of 22 January 2007, I was in my house in Sour Baher, which is located to the south-east of Jerusalem city in the neighbourhood of al-Qasaba. At approximately 8:00 am, I looked out a window and saw Israeli military jeeps and ambulances parked at the main junction leading to Um Touba road, which runs parallel to my house.

I left my house and walked towards the military jeeps, which were parked 50 metres from my house. As I was walking, I saw military jeeps parked at the entrance to Mahmoud al-A'mas’ house, which is nearby. There were soldiers and police everywhere. The special squads were dressed in grey uniforms, the police were wearing blue uniforms, and the border police were wearing their green uniforms. They were carrying batons and guns. I saw that they had started closing the road in front of the house.

The soldiers stood at the doors of the buildings which face onto the front yard. From one of the houses located inside the yard, I heard women screaming. Mahmoud al-A'mas’ building, which was comprised of four floors, was also situated in the yard. I asked an Israeli policeman, who was referred to as "Hajay" by the other soldiers, to allow me to go and help the women, but he refused my request. He told the soldiers not to allow me into the yard.

Thereafter, ten soldiers gathered around me. One of them put his hand around my neck and pushed me backwards in a violent manner. He wore a grey uniform and carried a gun and a baton. I told the soldier that I have heart problems. He answered by saying that he did not care. All of the above took place at the yard’s entrance, which is next to the main road.

I then saw two massive yellow bulldozers move towards Mahmoud al-A'mas’ four-storey building and begin to demolish it. Furthermore, I saw a number of Israeli soldiers beating Mahmoud al-A'mas, who is 67-years-old. Some of the soldiers used their fists while others used their batons. They also aggressively beat 35-year-old Abu-Zeid 'Awadallah, who resides in the area, and then tied his hands with plastic cuffs. The soldiers in question wore grey uniforms. I was standing approximately 20 metres away from where the soldiers attacked Mahmoud and Abu-Zeid.

At approximately 8:00 am on Monday, 22 January 2007, I left my house, which is located in Sour Baher, and walked towards the house of Mahmoud al-A'mas. His house is located close to mine. Upon seeing a very large number of Israeli military jeeps parked close to the grave yard near his house, I realised that the Jerusalem Municipality intended to demolish his house.

While on the way from my house to Mahmoud al-A'mas' house, I saw roughly 80 police, border police and special squad officers closing the road. The soldiers were wearing the green uniform of the Israeli border police, while the police were wearing the blue uniforms. The special squads were wearing their grey military uniforms. I know from previous occasions that the special squads wear this uniform. All of the police, as well as the soldiers, were carrying weapons.

While I was on my way to the house, ten special squad officers in grey uniforms blocked my path and informed me in Hebrew that I had to go back. They said that it was prohibited to pass down the road. Before I could ask them for further information, the soldiers forcefully pushed me backwards. Some of them, in order to force me to move back, beat me all over my body with their batons.

Then, I saw several civilians - I cannot recall exactly how many - gather around me. The soldiers started pushing them backwards using batons. I also saw a soldier, who was wearing a green uniform and was carrying a gun, beating a man of about 20 years of age with a baton. This soldier forced us to move backwards and to stand in an area that overlooks the house from the other side.

I saw two huge yellow bulldozers approaching from the main road located to the north of the house. I do not know what make the bulldozers were as I cannot read English, but I can attest that this was the first time I saw bulldozers of this size. I then saw the bulldozers demolishing the house of Mahmoud al-A'mas, which consisted of four floors.

I live in Kufr ‘Ein village, which is located 26 kilometres west of Ramallah city. On 9 October 2006, my wife gave birth to a baby boy whom I named Khaled. He suffered from asthma attacks. Whenever he had an asthma attack, I took him from Kufr ‘Ein to the Ramallah public hospital. This is because our village lacks a medical centre which could properly deal with my son’s case. He needed extra oxygen whenever he had such attacks.

At approximately 12:30 am on Thursday, 8 March 2006, my wife woke me up. She was terrified. She told me that Khaled was having an asthma attack and that we needed to take him to the hospital. I quickly got out of bed and phoned Yousef, a taxi driver from our village. He was accustomed to taking Khaled to the hospital whenever he had an asthma attack. My wife, Khaled, Yousef and I rode in the car.

At approximately 12:50 am we arrived at the 'Atara military checkpoint, where the entry of Palestinians to Ramallah is controlled. No other cars were present at the checkpoint. The soldiers stopped us and asked us for our IDs. I told the soldier, who belonged to the regular army, that my son was sick and needed to be transferred to the hospital as soon as possible. I pointed out my son and said, “Look at him; he is in the back seat with his mom.” The soldier refused to look and insisted on taking our IDs.

He took our IDs and walked five metres away from us, where he stood with four other soldiers. The five minutes he was gone felt like hours. I then called him and said, “I am in a hurry. I have a kid in a serious condition and I have to take him to the hospital.” He came back to me and asked, “Who do you have with you in the car?” I answered, “My sick son and my wife.” He insisted on taking my wife’s ID. I told him, “I need to make use of every minute and second. My son is dying and he needs oxygen.” He paid no attention to me and insisted on taking my wife’s ID. He took it and went away again.

He returned five minutes later, at which stage my wife told me that there was a sort of foam coming out of Khaled’s mouth. I screamed at the solder again and asked him to come back, as my son was dying. He came towards the door on the passenger’s side, where I was sitting, and opened it as though he was going to search the car. I said, “What is wrong with you? Look, my son is dying.” However, he did not care and simply continued to search the car with his torch.

Every time I spoke to him he would say, “I have to search the car.” I begged him, “Have mercy. My son is dying and I have to take him to the hospital as soon as possible.” Still, the soldier paid no attention to my pleas. Instead, he averted his attention to my son’s bag, which was located near my foot. It contained all his clothes and other items he needed. I told the soldier, “These are my son’s clothes. Just look at him.” All of this took approximately ten minutes. One of the soldiers started opening the side door of the car with his back turned to the door. My wife pushed him in his back and screamed in Arabic, “Look, a young child is dying!” There was foam all over his mouth.

The soldier gave us our ID’s and said, “Go.” The car moved approximately two metres when my wife told me, “Khaled is dead. He is not moving or breathing.” The driver stopped and I went to examine Khaled. He appeared to be dead. Nevertheless, I ordered the driver to take us to the hospital. When we arrived there, the doctors informed me that he was already dead.

I am a Palestinian citizen. I was born and lived in the Palestinian village of Yalo. On 5 June 1967, war broke out between the Arab armies and Israel. At the time, I was a mother of five children: Mahmoud, who was seven years old, In'am, who was six years old, Samira, who was five years old, Rukayya, who was two years old, and Muhammad, who was nine months old. I was also nine months pregnant.

My husband, whose name is 'Isa Muhammad 'Isa, was a member of the Palestinian National Security Guards. He was also a volunteer in the Jordanian army. At dawnon 6 June 1967, my husband arrived to our house in Yalo at approximately 3:30 am and informed me that the Israeli army was very close and could invade our village at any time. He also added that the Jordanian army had withdrawn from the village and their camps. Accordingly, he urged me to take the children and go to my father-inlaw's house, 500 metres away from our house. My husband helped carry the children.

On the way, we ran into my father-in-law, who was coming to our house to tell us that people were fleeing the village and that it was being said that the Israelis were going to occupy our village. At approximately 6:30 am on the same day, people started fleeing in huge numbers and I heard sporadic shooting. My father-in-law ordered me to get the children ready and prepare to flee to Ramallah. We walked along with hundreds of families. I saw Israeli military vehicles and tanks on the roads. We made our way on foot through the agricultural roads and between the fields without any food or drink until we arrived to 'Ein 'Arik village, west of Ramallah city, at sunset.

I bought sweets for my children from one of the groceries and we spent the first night in the open air in 'Ein 'Arik. I was exhausted. At dawn on 7 June 1967, my husband brought some rice. I cooked it and fed my children. Because of the extremely cold weather, I wrapped my son Muhammad, who was nine months old, in a cloth sac, as we had no clothes with us. When my husband saw this, he decided to go back to our house in Yalo and bring some beans, oil and clothes.

My husband left for Yalo at approximately 9:00 am. I desperately wanted to go with him in order to make sure that my father, who was disabled having lost one of his feet, was ok. However, my pregnancy and exhaustion prevented me from doing so. My husband spent the night in Yalo and returned the following morning. He asked me to prepare the children to return to the village. Several families had returned to their homes and there were no traces of any Israelis in the village. Furthermore, it would be impossible for us to bare such harsh living conditions out in the open.

I was afraid to go back and I had a heated argument with my husband. I initially refused to return but eventually accepted my husband’s will. We left 'Ein 'Arik with asmall number of people. My husband took the white cover from my head a placed it on a stick as a form of protection. The soldiers saw us but did not attack. I arrived at my father’s house along with my husband and children. I bathed my children and prepared food.

My husband then asked me to accompany him to check on our house. We had seen several houses open and demolished with the furniture thrown outside. Our house was 800 metres away from my father’s house and overlooks the main ’Imwas road. I saw dozens of Israeli tanks approaching our village from ’Imwas. I went running back to my father’s house. When I got into the house, my husband arrived with a donkey.

He told me, “the soldiers caught me on the road and ordered me to take you and get out of the village to Beit Sira.” After we had walked a few hundred metres, I realised we had forgotten Rukayya and informed my husband. Without even thinking I ran back to the house and found Rukayya sitting there. I took Rukayya and returned to my husband and children.

Along the way, we ran into Israeli soldiers who were suspicious of my father's wooden foot and tried to dismantle it. When we arrived at the spring named 'Ein Yalo,we found lots of people looking as if it was doomsday. There, we found soldiers screaming at us: "Go to Beit Sira.” We walked on foot until we arrived at Beit Sira. We found an unfinished house and spent several nights there. I do not recall the exact day, but maybe it was 12 June 1967, when my father decided to accompany Ibarhim Shu'eibi, a resident of our village, to go back and pick up some furniture and clothes. Several residents from the village had already gone back and taken some of their belongings.

By noon my husband had not returned home. I was very worried and told my children that we had to go and look for their father. I left Beit Sira to go to Yalo. On my way I met with some other villagers who advised me to return to Beit Sira as the situation was very dangerous in Yalo. They also informed me that my husband had been killed by the Israelis. I returned to Beit Sira shocked and upset. When I arrived in Beit Sira, several displaced people from my village came to pay their condolences for the death of my husband. I settled in Beit Sira and had the child I was pregnant with. I named him 'Isa, after his father. I subsequently lived with my father and brother in Qalandiya camp for several years, and then moved to Bitouniya.

I am a Palestinian citizen living in the Bitouniya neighbourhood of Ramallah. I was born in Yalo village, one of villages of Latroun. I lived there until 1967, when I was displaced by the Israeli army.

On 5 June 1967 at approximately 10:00 am, as I was in the fields picking crops with residents of our village, we heard, through the Arab Voice Radio, that war had broken out between the Israeli army and the Egyptian, Jordanian and Syrian armies. I left the field and went directly to my home, located west of the village. I did not see any of the Jordanian army soldiers who were usually in the village. There was also no Israeli army presence. I was tense and alert, waiting with the other villagers, listening the whole time to the Arab Voice Radio to follow the progress of the war. Three vehicles carrying around 140 Egyptian commandos arrived at the village at approximately 6:30 pm. Some of the villagers, including myself, and the Palestinian national security officials, received the Egyptian commandos, who went to the village spring, rested and drank water.

I still remember the evening of 5 June 1967. At approximately 9:00 pm, the Egyptian commandos asked about the Israelis’ location in order to attack them. The Palestinian security forces pointed out a lit outpost. Immediately, the Egyptian commandos went there, across the fields. As they reached the far side, where the Israeli settlement was located, I heard heavy firing and artillery explosions. The firing continued for approximately an hour and a half. While I was watching the situation with one of the villagers (it was by now about 10:00 pm), I saw the lights of dozens of military vehicles and tanks approaching the village from the west, i.e. the Israeli side. The advance of the Israeli vehicles was accompanied by heavy firing from their side without any retaliation. The same sounds were repeated frequently.

At around 2:00 am on 6 June 1967, hundreds of Palestinian civilians from the neighbouring ’Imwas village, which is the closest to the Israeli border, arrived in our village. Groups of men, women and children arrived in a state of extreme fear and panic. They told us that the Israeli army had occupied ’Imwas and al-Latroun. Indeed, they had seen the soldiers occupying the Jordanian army military camp in ’Imwas, and the Israeli soldiers had ordered them to leave the village and go towards Ramallah. As I looked at the road joining our village with ’Imwas, I saw that it was full of displaced Palestinians.

At around 4:00 am, I heard strong and intensive shooting directed at our village. I looked and saw that it was coming from the mountain overlooking our village. At 6:00 am, I received news that the Israeli soldiers were marching towards our village after having occupied ’Imwas and displaced its residents. Upon hearing this, I got two mattresses, two blankets, my winter coat and some of my children onto my camel. I had seven children. The eldest was Mariyam (ten years old) and the youngest was Fadel (three months old). I left the village with my wife and seven children. We went towards Beit Liqiya village. My parents and my sister Fatima remained in the village, refusing to leave.

As we were walking on the roads of the village, I saw dozens of Israeli tanks. Some of them were going towards nearby Beit Nouba. The Israeli soldiers saw us but did not do anything. We were walking with hundreds of civilians from both our village and ’Imwas village. We passed by Beit Liqiya village, where we saw the corpses of two Egyptian soldiers on the road. Near Beit Liqiya village, my family and I sat under the olives trees. We did not have any food or water. All were tired and hungry, especially my children, and Fadel in particular.

The weather was hot. After we had rested for roughly an hour, we resumed our trip towards Beit 'Our al-Foqa village. We reached there at around 1:00 pm. The road to Beit 'Our was not manned by any Israeli soldiers. After taking an hour’s rest, we continued on to al-Tira village. As we entered the village, we passed by a military camp belonging to the Jordanian army. We saw three dead bodies on the side of the road. We knew that they were Jordanian soldiers from their uniform. My family and I, and hundreds of others, continued our walk until we reached 'Ein 'Abdallah near Bitouniya, west of Ramallah.

To the east of 'Ein 'Abdallah, I encountered dozens of Israeli soldiers who spoke to me in Arabic and said that it was prohibited to walk on the roads; that we had to go to Ramallah through the valleys and fields. We continued our march to Ramallah through the fields. We went down a big valley far away from the main roads. At the time of evening prayers, around 6:30 pm, we reached the old town of Bitouniya. There, we spent a night in an old deserted house without food or water. That was on 6 June 1967. Everyone was taking care of his family and himself as if it were Judgment Day. In the morning, I went to Ramallah city where I met one of the villagers called Jarad Muhammad Nassar. He was carrying a number of loaves of bread. I asked him for one. He gave it to me and I went directly to my family to give it to them.

The following night, we slept in Ramallah al-Tahta (Lower Ramallah). Early on the morning of 7 June 1967, I left my children sleeping and went to see an old friend named Mohammad Issa, who was living in Ramallah. Mohammad Issa owns a blacksmith workshop. I asked him to give me an axe, which I took. I went straight to the UNRWA stores in al-Sahel Street in Ramallah. I broke the doors of the stores along with dozens of civilians, and took a sack of flour.

At around noon on 8 June 1967, I heard a voice calling loudly for the residents of ’Imwas, Beit Nouba and Yalo, saying that the Israelis would allow them to return to their villages. I took my family and camel and set out with hundreds of residents to return to our villages and houses. As I reached the Beit Liqiya intersection, I met dozens of my village’s inhabitants who told me that the Israeli army had prevented them from returning to the village.

I turned back with sadness and concern because we did not have food, money or clothes. We reached the mosque of Kharbatha al-Misbah, where we sat a corner and spent the night. We spent four days in the mosque. At around 3:00 am on 12 June 1967, I prepared my camel and went to my village accompanied by my cousin Mustafa 'Abd-al-Rahim without telling anybody. When we reached Beit Nouba village, I met one of the resident of my village, Mohammad Hasan Nawwas. He told me that he had been on his way to the village, but had seen two corpses under the olive trees along the way, which frightened him into turning back. I was not scared, and continued until I reached the dead bodies. They were the corpses of 'Ali Ahmad al-'Arab and Sabha 'Abdallah Abu-Dayya, both from Yalo village.

I reached our village, which I found was completely empty. The doors of houses were open and other houses were destroyed and their walls reduced to rubble. I entered my house, took three mattresses, three blankets and some food supplies such as lentils and chickpeas, as well as a goat, and left. Near my house in the village, I met 'Abd-al-Karim Mahmoud Nimer who was carrying some things on his two donkeys. He told me to leave before him and that he would leave when he was finished.

As I was passing Beit Liqiya, I met al-'Abed Tayeh and Ibrahim Shu'eibi, two fellow residents of my village. They were going to Yalo, our village. They asked me if I had met any Israelis on the way to Yalo, and I told them that I had not. They continued their walk to Yalo and I continued to Ramallah. I reached Kharbatha where I had left my family. I spent several nights in Kharbatha with my family, with the feeling that it would be possible to return to our village.

After 20 days (towards the end of June), I, together with another resident of my village, went to Yalo through the valleys, mountains and fields. As we reached the Beit Nouba fields, I saw four corpses laid out beside each other. They were: Ibrahim Shu'eibi, al-'Abed Tayeh, Zuheir Zuhdi and 'Isa Abu-'Isa. All of them were from Yalo. I did not examine the corpses because they were swollen. We entered the village at around midnight. We first went to the demolished home of Abu-Wasim where we saw the body of 'Isa Ziyada and more demolished houses. We were both very scared. We both took some stuff from the rubble of his house and left to go back towards Kharbatha.

It is worth noting that many of my village’s residents left for the East Bank of the Jordan River while I lived in Kharbatha for four years. I rented a house and worked by cultivating crops for some of the village’s families.

I am a Palestinian citizen. I was born and lived in the Palestinian village of Yalo. At approximately 3:00 am on the morning of 6 June 1967, I was in the yard of my house baking bread. My husband, 'Abd-al-Karim Mahmoud Nimer Mustafa, my disabled mother, Rahma, and my children (Najah, eight years old; Saleh, four years old; andSalha, one and a half years old) were all in the house. At this time, a family of five from 'Imwas reached my house and told me, “the Israelis have invaded.” My husband joined us and we had a long conversation during which we learnt that the Israelis had occupied 'Imwas and had forced the residents to leave for Ramallah. This family left again at 5:00 am to go to Ramallah. At this time, I saw dozens of people leaving our village to go towards Ramallah, running from the Israelis. However, my family and I stayed in our house as it is far from the centre of the village. I did not see any Israeli soldiers nearby.

My husband encountered them in the streets of the village and would run away each time. During the day, I heard sporadic shooting. This situation remained the same for four days.

My family and I did not leave the village. On the fourth day, I believe it was 9 June 1967, several people who had fled the village returned. In the evening, my husband came home and said, “the Israelis are in the village and they are calling through loudspeakers.” The Israelis were saying, “all residents of Yalo must leave to Ramallah.

Those who don’t will be in danger.” I got my three children ready, but couldn’t carry anything, as I was six months pregnant. We walked to the nearby village of Beit Nouba, only one kilometre from Yalo. As I entered Beit Nouba, I saw several bulldozers guarded by Israeli soldiers razing houses in the village to the ground. We were thirsty and hungry as the weather was very hot. We were also scared as we were alone on the road, having been the last to leave our village. I spent that night in a mosque. In the morning, I tried to find food for us. My husband, accompanied by others, decided to go back to the village to get some food and clothes. My husband had left in the early morning and I later decided to leave my children with another woman to go after my husband to see what had happened to my disabled mother. As I was walking across valleys and fields on foot, I saw my husband coming back using a donkey to carry mattresses and other things. He asked me where I was going, and I told him. He said, “okay, there are no Israelis on the road, and I have brought some necessities like clothes and food. I am going to Beit Likiya to get my sister.” I continued and reached the village, but did not find my mother. I checked the house but could not find her. I was terrified as I could hear shooting. However, I did not meet any Israeli soldiers. The houses of the village were open and some were collapsing. I carried a cover and left the village to go back towards Kharbatha. On my way back, between Beit Nouba and Yalo, I saw the donkey that my husband had been using. It was alone with some of the things still on its back. As I moved forward, I saw people’s possessions left on the road. I also saw women and a man who had been killed, their bodies lying amongst the olive trees. I was extremely frightened. I was going down a valley towards Kharbatha when two Israeli soldiers saw me. They spoke to me in Arabic, asking me where I had been. I told them that I was in my village fetching clothes for my children.

One soldier asked me to leave what I was carrying on the ground and, threatening me with his weapon, ordered me to get into their jeep. I got in, and saw that there were several other women there. Every now and then, I would hear shooting. The jeep took us to one of the fields of Beit Likiya and released us.

That evening, at around 7:00 pm, I rejoined my children in the mosque. My anxiety over the well-being of my husband and mother was increasing. At 9:00 pm, Mustafa Abu-Khalil, who is from my village, arrived at the mosque together with a person called Jarad. They said, "May you have a long life. The Israelis killed your husband in the fields of Beit Nouba in front of us, but they let us go us because we are old.” My husband was 35 years old. I was in shock. I had three children and a fourth due shortly after. Who was going to raise them and bring in money? I started crying. However, I could not collapse as I had to remain strong for the sake of my children. Now that their father had died, I was their mother, father and guardian.

I left Kharbatha and went to my father’s house, in Beit Likiya. I stayed there for two months. We used to sleep outside in the open air, as there was no space left for us in the mosques or schools. I heard from people that my husband’s body had been left in the open air. People also said that the Israelis had left mines or bombs so that no one could approach the dead bodies. After sleeping outside in the open air for two months, I went with my father to Qalandiya camp, south of al-Bireh. I stayed there for seven years and gave birth to my fourth child, Theeb. I was also informed, by Husein 'Abd-al-Rahman Jibrin, that he had seen the murder of my mother near our house.

I recall my first visit back to my village in 1978 to what is now referred to as “Canada Park.” Some features of my village still remained and could be detected. I told my children, “This is the road to my father’s house, the road to the mosque. Here is where our house used to be.” Then I burst into tears. I also told my children that their father used to own 40 dunums of land. It is all gone. The most painful thing for me is that my daughter, Salha, and my son, Theeb, have no idea what their father looked like, since the only photo of him was lost when we were displaced.